


I Promise You One Day

by AtropaAzraelle (Polyoxyethylene)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Prostitute AU, Prostitution, Sex Work, allusions to STDs, mentions of consensual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 21:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/AtropaAzraelle
Summary: Gladio didn't think, the night he went to that brothel, that his life was going to change, but Specs was just too alluring to pass up, and now Gladio's in deep.Gladnis Week 2018: Day 7: AU





	I Promise You One Day

“Welcome back,” said the bright eyed concierge. Gladio gave her his best winning smile. The room smelled of patchouli and sandalwood, and it made his nose itch, but he did his best to ignore it. The place was plush, clean, expensive looking, but it was still a brothel underneath the veneer of expense. “Would you like to see our lineup?”

Gladio shook his head. “I want Specs,” he told her, flashing her another smile.

The concierge gave him an apologetic smile. “I'm afraid he's not available right now,” she said.

“I'll wait,” Gladio said.

The noise she made didn't bode well. Words were dying in the woman's throat as she looked up at him. “He's with another client, sir,” she said, with an outward cringe. Gladio's infatuation was probably the talk of the brothel, he paid handsomely, he tipped well, and he had only ever gone with Ignis. _Specs_.

“I'll wait,” he repeated, turning to go and take a seat nearby.

“Are you sure I can't interest you in another?” she asked, making a desperate last bid to keep Gladio's attention.

“I'm sure,” Gladio said, sitting down in an armchair.

“He might be a while,” she said, lastly, weakly, a final plea for Gladio to see sense and just try someone else.

Gladio flashed her another smile, but this one didn't reach his eyes. “That's okay,” he told her, reaching into his bag, “I brought a book.” He pulled it out and settled the thick tome on his lap, and gave her a firm nod of dismissal as he opened it and began to read.

Or tried to read. The words on the page faded away in front of his eyes, replaced with thoughts of Ignis with another client. The idea of it made his stomach turn with misplaced jealousy and a simmering, impotent anger. It was Ignis's reality; he'd known that since he'd met him, it was _how_ he'd met him, but it didn't mean that Gladio liked it. The thought of other people's hands on Ignis's skin, of him teasing his silk shirt open for another set of eyes made Gladio's blood boil.

It hadn't been his idea to come to the brothel. It had been someone's 21st birthday, and there had been drinks, and music, and someone had suggested strippers, and someone else had suggested something _way_ better, and they knew just the place. Exclusive, expensive, discreet, and with the prettiest whores you could want.

Gladio hadn't even known the place had existed until he'd visited that night. From the outside it had looked abandoned. All the windows were boarded up and only a single light was on by the porch. It looked like a house you expected to see stupid teenagers go into in some slasher flick, where only one of them comes out alive in the end. It was big, and old, and out of the way. He'd never asked how his friends had found out about the place, but he had, and he'd led them all there. That night had changed Gladio's life.

Inside looked a lot better than outside. It was clean, even if the place stank of incense, probably to cover up the stench of the sex you could hear happening even over the music. The boarded up windows were covered with heavy velvet. The lights were low.

They'd been taken along the line. That's what they called the cattle market of young men and women that worked there. Luche and Pelna and the rest had picked pretty young things with per breasts and slim waists that smiled and flirted. They'd draped limbs around them in introduction. Gladio's attention had been caught by someone else.

Sharp green eyes had looked out at him from behind stylish thin frames. There had been no ingratiating fake smile for Gladio, no immediate leap forward to touch and entice. There had just been that eye contact that Gladio had felt searing deep into his soul, examining him, and the soft lips that had parted ever so slightly.

His working nickname was Specs. All of them were given a working name. They weren't supposed to reveal their real names. He'd led Gladio up to his room, which was spartan and dimly lit by candles, and Gladio had tried to get into it despite his skin crawling at the thought of what he was about to do. He'd watched Specs undress, slowly. The piecemeal revelation of flesh was calculated, perfectly timed and practised to entice and excite, and Gladio had to admit it had worked on him. Specs was hot, more than hot, he was beautiful. His skin was smooth and pale, and his limbs long. He had the sort of defined musculature that showed he was fit, and flexible. Of course people wanted him. Gladio wanted him.

He'd let Specs remove his shirt for him, and when he'd been pushed down onto the frankly huge bed Gladio hadn't resisted. Specs' hands were warm, and soft, but skilled as he worked muscles Gladio hadn't noticed were aching.

When Specs' mouth had descended to his chest Gladio had stopped him. “Wait,” he said.

“It's all right,” Specs said, meeting his eyes with those intelligent green ones again.

Gladio had felt his heart skip a beat. He couldn't do this. Paying for sex was a living for some, there was no shame in it, but Gladio couldn't bring himself to go through with it. He'd sat up, taking Specs by the upper arms gently and pushing him to sit up too. He was slight, the toned muscle and smooth skin practically glowed in the dim light of the room, and this close Gladio could see he was peppered with freckles. “I'm paying for your time, right?” he'd asked. “That doesn't mean we have to do that.”

Specs had looked at him, wrongfooted but rallying quickly. “Then what would you like to do?” he asked.

“Let's just talk,” Gladio had said. “I want to know your name.”

Those soft, beautiful lips had parted slightly again, and then Specs had answered in a whisper, “Ignis. My name's Ignis.”

They'd talked for an hour about nothing very much. It turned out that Ignis read when he could and they shared taste in books. Ignis cracked open a bottle of wine, and Gladio had got to see Ignis's face light up in a real, warm smile, his eyes crinkling shut with the breadth of it when they talked about his favourite scenes.

A knock came to Ignis's door to signal their time was coming to an end. Ignis had kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him for his time. Gladio had felt his heart flutter, and he'd known that he was lost.

He'd had gone back a week later and asked for Specs, only to be told that he couldn't see him unless he was paying for him. So Gladio paid for him. He paid for him on every visit. Once a week became twice, then thrice, and still Gladio didn't touch Ignis. It was enough to see his smile, to talk to him, to share a bottle of wine with him. If Gladio had to pay to put that genuine smile on Ignis's face, it was worth it.

The first time he'd seen a bruise on Ignis's skin his stomach had flipped. There were teeth marks in his shoulder, a couple of days old, at least. A purple and green bruise that peeked out from under his collar. He'd seen it as Ignis had poured the wine, and Gladio had crossed the room in two strides, pushing Ignis's shirt aside as gently as he could with his anger roiling. “Who did this?”

“Another client,” Ignis answered, bluntly. His eyes turned to Gladio, but his body didn't, and there was a hardness to the line of his mouth that put a knot in Gladio's throat.

“He hurt you?”

“ _She_ ,” Ignis said, “pays more to mark me.” He'd looked up at Gladio with those sharp green eyes, and there was pity and sadness in them, but also a fierce stubbornness. “Or did you think everyone buys my time for my witty repartee?”

It had hit Gladio then, for the first time, what Ignis was, what kind of life he led. Ignis was a thing, to most, a whore, a hole, a dick, something disposable, something you could, for a little extra, brand with your presence. He was just another consumable item in the world. It made Gladio angry, but it also hurt to think of Ignis letting someone else hurt him for a little extra money.

He hadn't returned to the brothel that week. He couldn't bring himself to. He'd been no better than any other client of Ignis's, treating his time and his body like a commodity he could purchase. The guilt and shame had boiled under his skin. He hadn't returned the week after, either, but there was an ache where Ignis's presence had been. The thought of people paying to hurt Ignis wouldn't leave him.

He'd returned to the brothel the week after that. “Leave here,” he offered. “Whatever it takes, I'll buy you out.”

“I don't want your charity,” Ignis had said, his arms folded across his chest. His chin had been tilted up, and those green eyes were full of a fire that Gladio wanted to throw himself into.

“Why not?” Gladio asked. “It's better than selling yourself!”

Ignis had shaken his head. “Gladio,” he said, his voice full of that same pity he'd held when Gladio had seen the bruise that had faded away against his skin, and Gladio realised who the pity had been directed at. “What difference do you think it makes if you buy me from them? I still won't be my own.”

“I don't want you as a slave,” Gladio had protested, weakly.

Ignis shook his head, his arms unfolding as he stepped closer and settled his hands against Gladio's cheeks. “Freedom can't be given to someone like me,” he said softly. “If you bought my contract out, even if you released me, I would always owe you,” he explained. His voice fell to a whisper as he added, “And it would soil what we have.”

“What we have?” Gladio asked, his heart fluttering with a longing he hadn't dared acknowledge.

Ignis had moved forward. His hands against Gladio's cheeks were warm, his lips against Gladio's mouth were soft. The kiss pressed to Gladio's lips was sweet, innocent, but it throbbed with an affection that made Gladio want nothing more than to draw Ignis into his arms and hold him tight. “I need to buy my own way out,” Ignis whispered, his head dropping down as his mouth left Gladio's burning with the memory of his warmth. His forehead was so close to Gladio's mouth that a small movement would have planted Gladio's lips there, and oh, how he wanted to press his lips to that smooth, pale skin. “Do you understand?”

They made love that day. It was the first time Ignis had ever made love, instead of simply having sex. Gladio had peppered his mouth and skin with the kisses and affectionate touches Ignis had always deserved and never received. Ignis had arched with pleasure under him, coming with a shudder under the attention of Gladio's mouth. The thin latex of a condom spared Gladio from whatever unknown things Ignis's clients might have given him since his last test only at Ignis's insistence and Gladio hated that Ignis had insisted on it. One day, he promised himself and Ignis, in the safety of his own head, Ignis wouldn't need to protect Gladio from himself.

They'd come to an arrangement that night, with Ignis folded safely in Gladio's arms, overwhelmed with the reality of being cared for, and about. Gladio could pay for Ignis's time, as he always had. He wasn't to make any stupid gestures such as offering to buy out Ignis's contract, and he wasn't to abuse Ignis's affection for him by buying up entire days of Ignis's time because Ignis refused to let Gladio make himself a pauper. Gladio had agreed, reluctantly. He'd been even more reluctant to agree to the condition that if Ignis was with a client he had to wait, and he was never, ever to ask for details of the things they made Ignis do for their money. It was, he knew, Ignis trying to protect him from the reality of what he was again, and Gladio hated that things were bad enough that Ignis needed to do it.

Not being able to ask didn't stop Gladio from imagining what might go on behind that closed door. Especially not when he saw a portly, older man exit Ignis's room, looking smug before he strode down the stairs, and out of the door. Gladio bit his lip and put his book away, not that he'd got far. What had that client been looking so pleased about? Had he crushed Iggy's face into the pillow, fucking him from behind like some blow up doll with no care for Ignis's comfort? Had he forced his cock down Ignis's throat, so that Ignis choked and gasped until his client came?

Whatever they made Ignis do, Gladio knew it was probably worse than he could imagine. He couldn't conceive of wanting to hurt Ignis, of wanting to see him sob, or beg. He couldn't conceive of Ignis doing it, of those brilliant green eyes tearing up as he choked on a dick shoved too far down his throat.

“I'm a better actor than you give me credit for,” Ignis had said, when Gladio had mentioned it, in defiance of their rules. Gladio had assumed he Ignis was just trying to soothe him, but when he'd pushed Gladio back onto the bed later he'd demonstrated it by swallowing Gladio whole. His nose had pressed flush to Gladio's skin, buried in his hair, and the softness of Iggy's throat had closed around Gladio and taken his breath away as he'd swallowed around him.

He went up the stairs when Ignis's client left the building, ignoring the concierge's helpless protest of, “Sir, wait!” Ignis's door wasn't locked, and he opened it to find Ignis inside, shrugging a silk dressing gown over his shoulders, the rest of his body naked and unblemished to Gladio's eyes.

“Gladio!” he proclaimed, standing up and drawing the dressing gown shut as he did.

Gladio strode across the room without a word and captured Ignis's face in his hand, drawing his body close. He claimed a deep and penetrating kiss, reconquering territory that might well have been marred by another man's cock only minutes before. Ignis gave a murmur of surprise before he looped his arms around Gladio's shoulders and kissed him back.

“What was that for?” he asked, when Gladio finally released him and stood back to look him over.

Gladio shook his head. “I missed you,” he said.

Ignis leaned forward again, pressing up on his toes to find Gladio's mouth again. Their next kiss was less hurried, and more enjoyable. “I missed you too,” he said, when he settled back onto the flat of his feet.


End file.
